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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27397744">the boy and the car</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/LazyBaker/pseuds/LazyBaker'>LazyBaker</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Stranger Things (TV 2016)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Future Fic, Ghost Billy Hargrove, Haunted Camaro, M/M, post-season 3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 20:40:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>716</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27397744</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/LazyBaker/pseuds/LazyBaker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve doesn’t recognize her at first.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>131</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>the boy and the car</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Steve doesn’t recognize her at first.</p>
<p>She’s been repainted. Repaired. She strikes Steve across the parking lot. A decade old nostalgia has him hearing the guttural growl of her engine revving, impatient, too big for the small town of Hawkins.</p>
<p>The painted white price on her window catches him by the wallet and he pays in cash and a couple still-good credit cards right then. Knows it’s what he has to do when a ghost like this comes along, appearing out of nowhere. A restoration project that took the better part of ten years. Bought dirt cheap at the junkyard and made new with no idea a dead boy loved her first.</p>
<p>The price is scrubbed off. Steve sits in <em>his</em> camaro and smells mint. Knows firsthand it should be hairspray and cigarettes and contempt for everyone and everything that appears in her headlights.  </p>
<p>Steve drives. Turns off the radio to listen to her, the vibrations of her new wheels on old Indiana roads he hasn’t bothered with for years, too stuck on the tracks for the commute to work. Married. Divorced. Married again. Divorced <em>again</em>. Living in Robin’s office turned spare bedroom after giving up the house in the settlement. </p>
<p>Steve’s spent so damn long trying and not getting all that far. </p>
<p>He drives and he drives, grips the clutch tight and fast, foot glued to the gas pedal and feels helplessly <em>young</em>.</p>
<p>“Pretty boy.” An old voice says beside him. “Tell me this ain’t the best you got?”</p>
<p>Billy Hargrove shines in the dying red and warm orange slipping to pink sunlight. </p>
<p>Hawkins is strange. </p>
<p>“Hey, Billy.” Steve says, rubs at his eyes. Chest going tight, growing, near bursting.</p>
<p>The passenger side window rolls down, the cool night air slipping in and Billy sticks his translucent hand out the window, smoke from his cigarette trailing behind them, his curls billowing. Grinning just as he did before. Looking just the same as before. Tongue between his teeth. Young and apple cheeked. Bright and acidic and too handsome and in on a joke Steve didn’t know the punchline for, but understood anyways. Knew more than he’d let on. </p>
<p>“What’s the point of buying my girl if you’re not gonna give her a chance to show off?” Billy asks him, takes a pull and blows a plume of smoke in Steve’s direction. Marlboro Reds. Steve recognizes the smell and remembers Billy always had a pack of reds in his pocket and a lighter always on the fritz.</p>
<p>Steve grips the wheel with both hands, his knuckles turning bone-white. The leather squeaks.  </p>
<p>He takes a few turns. Hits a backroad that goes on forever and steps on the gas with a stomp.</p>
<p>The camaro roars.</p>
<p>Billy yells, <em>fuck yeah!</em></p>
<p>Steve laughs. Goes faster. Takes turns harder. The wheels squeal beneath them.</p>
<p><em>Ten years</em>, Steve thinks. Billy would have left. Gone back home to the west coast. Followed Metallica on tour. Gone to Max’s wedding. Been the cool uncle that snuck a kid candy behind their parents’ back. Steve would’ve said something. Admitted he’d been stuck and hurting. Would tell Billy <em>I cheated on my second wife with a guy I met at a bar because he looked like you would’ve looked if you’d gotten to grow up</em>. </p>
<p>There’s so many <em>maybes</em>.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry.” Steve tells him over the rumble of the shooting rocket he’s catapulting forward. <em>I still think about you. I don’t know why. I saw you die and see you die most nights, still. </em></p>
<p>Something’s been wrong with Steve. Stranger than anyone else coming out of this town.</p>
<p>Billy puts his hand on Steve’s thigh. His touch <em>warm</em>. Solid. There. <em>Here</em>.</p>
<p>Steve’s head whips around to stare at him.</p>
<p>“Shut up and drive, ya sap.” Billy says, cigarette bitten between his canines. His thumb rubs circles on the side of Steve’s knee, inexplainable, eyes bright blue, electric and <em>alive</em> and all too big for Steve to understand.</p>
<p>So Steve nods, swallows back the tightness caught in his throat. Billy’s hand stays on him, touches Steve’s neck, tucks Steve’s hair behind his ear and gives it a tug, a warm presence on a cold Indiana night.  </p>
<p>The camaro hurdles through the dark forest. Past it. Away from it. Miles in the rearview mirror.</p>
<p>And Steve keeps driving. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <a href="https://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/633795387933786112/i-had-a-dream-recently-that-made-me-think-of-you">the original tumblr post</a>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <a href="http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com">tumblr</a>
</p></blockquote></div></div>
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